Patient Name: Cute Guy
by Madebyme
Summary: When a cute-but-sick guy enters the health clinic, Jess can't help but get invested. Featuring sick!Sam.


**Disclaimer** – I don't own Supernatural that privilege belongs to CW, Kripke and Co, I'm simply borrowing them for a while. I'm not making a profit, this is just for fun and all the standard disclaimers apply.

**Summary** – When a cute-but-sick guy enters the health clinic, Jess can't help but get invested. Featuring sick!Sam.

**Thank You **– To the always awesome **Harrigan** for betaing this and for suggesting the title.

**A/N** – This was written for the ohsam h/c fic&art celebration on Livejournal for **Shangrilada's** prompt which you can see in full at the bottom of the page. I hope you all enjoy!

**Patient Name: Cute Guy**

"Can I help you?" she asks with a frown. Even from behind the reception desk where she's sitting she can feel the fevered heat rolling from his body, his skin a pasty grey. He looks four shades of crap.

He opens his mouth to talk before bursting into a hacking cough that sounds like it's stripping the lining of his throat. His eyes shoot up towards her in an apology and he takes a step away from her, like he's trying to protect her from whatever it is that he has.

She keeps a bottle of water by her computer; she picks it up and hands it over to him without a word. He's looking at her like he doesn't want to inconvenience her, but she twists off the top and pushes it out to him again, pinching her lips tightly like she means business.

It must work because he reaches for the bottle and nods gratefully, but as he lifts it to his lips she can see his hand shake. Not a good sign.

He drinks half the bottle before he's able to speak. "Thank you and I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Believe me, I've had much worse," she interrupts, waving off his outstretched arm as he tries to hand the bottle back to her. "I think you should probably keep that."

His gaze flicks to the floor before he smiles and that's when she notices his huge dimples, which she's always had a soft spot for...but no, she's at work and she's a grown woman, not a little girl who melts when a really sick but cute guy smiles at her.

She catches herself staring again and clears her throat. Looking for something to do with her hands, she shakes the mouse and the screen saver disappears. "I'm guessing that you need an appointment?"

He nods and coughs once into his fisted hand, but she notices that he's gripping the edge of the desk tightly, like it's the only thing keeping him on his feet.

"Have you been here before? If not, I just need you to fill in a quick form, but I can still get you an appointment today."

"I'll need the form," he says hoarsely, his voice cracking painfully.

After picking up a form from the stack in her in-tray, she clips it to a board and picks up a pen. "You can sit over there and just call me when you're done. I'll do the rest."

"Thank you, uh..." he pauses, his eyes searching her desk like he's looking for something.

"Oh, Jess. My name's Jess."

He smiles softly before walking slowly to the nearest chair, and collapsing heavily into it. She lets herself watch him for a moment longer, just to make sure he's OK, but he's engrossed with the form, frowning a little like he's trying really hard to concentrate.

She logs into the clinic's system, and fills in the next available appointment with the name 'Cute Guy', which she's never done before but Angela does it all the time.

The phone rings and she books in another two appointments before she lets herself glance at Cute Guy. The clipboard is resting on his knee but he's staring blankly at the wall and there's something about his expression and the way his hair is curled in damp tendrils around the nape of his neck that twists her insides.

The place is pretty empty so she thinks that leaving the desk unmanned for just a minute won't hurt. She unlocks the door that leads into the waiting room, trying to tell herself that she would do this for anyone who looked this sick.

She's standing right in front of him now but he doesn't seem to notice her, so she clears her throat, resisting the urge to place a hand on one of his broad shoulders. "Are you finished with that?" she asks, pointing towards the form.

"Uh, yeah. I'm sorry, I guess I just-"

"It's OK." She reaches down to pick up the clipboard, eyes studying his neat handwriting. "I've booked you in for the next appointment, so you won't have to wait too long."

"Thank you. You've been-" he coughs again, his chest rattling as he winces in pain.

"You're welcome. Just give me a wave or something if you need anything."

He nods his thanks and continues to cough and it sounds bad, like chest-infection bad. Pulling herself away, she heads back towards her desk with his form.

Sam Winchester. Cute name for a cute guy. She types his information into the system as fast as she can, trying not to absorb all the details about him but it's hard, especially when she sees he hasn't listed an emergency contact name. Well, he started to-but then neatly crossed out the letters D and E. And now she's invested, like it's her duty to make sure he gets taken care of; because she can't imagine being that sick and having no one to watch out for her.

Then she glances at his date of birth and it only gets worse.

"It's your birthday!" She blurts it out loudly, but luckily there's only Sam and a girl from her Lit class in the room and she's got her earphones in. She feels her face warm, chewing on her lip as she looks at Sam, but he seems to be doing some sort of mental calculation in his head.

"It is? I thought maybe I'd missed it, I wasn't sure."

"No, it's today. Happy birthday!" she says, hoping to redeem herself, and she gets a flash of dimples in returns and counts it as a win.

"Thanks," he says, ducking his head.

"I guess you don't have any plans to celebrate, huh? I mean you look, well, pretty crappy."

"Yeah," he says with a snort, "trust me, I feel worse than I look." Then he erupts into yet another painful-sounding coughing fit before the door opens and Doctor Adams hovers in his doorway.

"Sam Winchester."

She watches Sam pull himself up onto unsteady legs as he walks slowly into the doctor's office, and then the door closes.

She tries not think about him, and even though she distracts herself by answering the phone and making herself a cup of overly sweet tea, she can't help but wonder if Sam has friends who know it's his birthday today and whether this mysterious-but-crossed-out DE knows that he's sick.

Sam's in there awhile and she's about to leave for her lunch break when the door opens and Doctor Adams pokes his head around the door. "Jess, can you order a taxi for Mr. Winchester please."

That's his secret code for when a patient shouldn't be on their feet and walking.

"Sure," she says, picking up the phone and then hesitating. "But I'm about to go for lunch and I have my car, so I could give him a lift. That is, if he doesn't mind?"

Doctor Adams looks into his office and then Sam walks out of the room. "Are you sure? I mean I-"

"I insist. Really." She picks up her purse before unlocking the door that leads into the reception. "Follow me."

**XoXoX**

"You didn't need to do this, I mean thanks and all but-"

"You're welcome," she says as she takes a left turn. "I mean it's the least I can do. It is your birthday."

"Yeah, but I should warn you that I may be contagious." He looks playful and relaxed, his cheeks still pink with fever, which she only sees because there's a red light and she had to stop the car.

She smiles at him because damn, he's so cute, fever and all. "So, what are we talking about? The Plague? Leprosy?"

"Ouch. Do I really look that bad?"

She shrugs. Yeah, he looks pretty sick but in an adorable way that makes her want to place her hand on his forehead to check his temperature. "I've seen worse."

He smiles and ducks his head and then the light goes green. They drive in silence for a while before Sam starts to cough again.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "Oh, I live in the dorms on-"

"I know," she interrupts before she can stop herself. Taking a breath she tries to sounds casual. "I mean, I remember because I processed your form. I actually live near you."

"Oh yeah?" he says and is it her or is he staring at her. Maybe it's the fever.

"Do you have a roommate?" she asks, because someone should really be keeping an eye on him.

"Yeah but he's...out a lot."

She throws him a smile over her shoulder. "Well, maybe I should swing by tomorrow to make sure you're still alive."

Now the dimples are huge and it's like they've got a magnetic force of their own pulling her closer to him. "Yeah, that might be a good idea."

She nods and tries really hard not to squeal with excitement before pulling into the dorm parking lot and shutting off the engine. "You OK from here?"

"I think I can manage, but thanks for the ride," he says, pushing open the door and then turning to face her, his eyes a little brighter and less fever-dulled. "So, maybe I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, maybe you will."

He pushes himself out of the car and she watches him walk to the dorm entrance before she rolls down the window. "Happy birthday, Sam. I hope your day hasn't sucked too much."

He turns around and locks eyes with her. "Best birthday ever."

Then he disappears into the dorm and she's smiling so hard her face actually hurts. She decides to do some baking, because really? Everyone deserves a birthday cake, whether they're sick or not.

**The End**

**Prompt** - Sam's sick enough to have to go to the health center at Stanford, and he doesn't even realize it's his birthday until he's filling out the intake forms. Who else notices? Why, pretty blonde girl working the reception desk, that's who. And is the poor guy really going to go home alone and sick on his birthday?


End file.
